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Memories
For the life of him - literally, for the life of him - Jackie couldn’t fathom why he’d declined Wei’s offer of company. A solitary walk had seemed important; he’d been shaken from his ordeal in the makeshift coffin in the sand, and going for a walk to mull over leaving the Sun On Yee had the added benefit of helping him realize he was still alive and moving. Sitting still in the car would have been a trial, especially since he’d had to stop himself jumping out of Wei’s stolen speedboat on the way back from the island just to feel something and convince himself that there wasn’t several feet of sand on top of him, slowly trickling into the box he was imprisoned in as he bloodied his hands trying to escape. Fresh air, a walk...it would do him some good. Help him settle his thoughts.
He only realized how phenomenally stupid he was being when a van pulled up alongside him and grabbed him right off the streets of Aberdeen. He’d begun to panic when the hood was pulled over his head - not again, not again, I can’t go back there again, help me, Wei! - and a blow to the back of the head had stopped his manic flailing.
It was the pain that brought him round, a sharp pain in his chest. He could feel himself bleeding from the cut the scalpel had made, and as he realized what it was that had cut him, he realized who had to be holding it.
He’d never wanted to see Liu Shen Tong again, not least when Tong had him zip-tied to a folding chair, stripped to the waist. The legendary Sun On Yee enforcer smiled at him, and it made Jackie wish that he hadn’t.
“You’ve made a big fucking mistake, lan yeung,” Jackie said with bravado he did not feel. “You fucking traitor. Wei’s not going to let you live, he’s gonna cut you apart with your own scalpels, you and Big Smile Lee and all the rest of you fucks!”
“Your friend Wei Shen’s not coming to save you this time,” the enforcer said, the cruel smile as sharp as the scalpel in his hand. Then he looked mock-thoughtful. “Or should I say...Officer Shen?”
“Bullshit,” Jackie spat. “Bullshit! He’s not a cop! You fucking liar! Diu nei lou mou!” It was such a stupid, transparent lie. It was acceptable, expected, even, to kill rats that infiltrated the Sun On Yee. Jackie hadn’t been present for the death of the latest one, Charles Ho, but he’d known the guy. He’d been an associate of Winston’s, but uninitiated, like Jackie had been until recently. His reluctance to kill was what eventually outed him as a rat, a fucking cop in sheep’s clothing, and Tong - Mr. Tong, as he was treated with respect and fear approaching that owed to the Dragonhead himself - had been dispatched to deal with him. Jackie shuddered when he remembered the stories of what had happened to the poor bastard. It didn’t escape him that Ho’s punishment - namely, being buried alive after being brutally tortured - was too similar to what had nearly happened to him. And what looked like was about to happen to him again.
Wei was no cop. He couldn’t be. He’d killed more than Jackie had, and that one murder for the initiation still gave Jackie nightmares. Even if he had shot the guy to save Wei’s life. Wei was Sun On Yee through and through. Hell, Uncle Po had been more likely to be a cop than Wei. “He’s not a fucking cop!”
The motherfucker kept smiling. “Oh, believe me, Jackie. I have it on very good authority that your friend is a fucking rat. And if he’s a rat...what’s to say you’re not a rat, too?”
Jackie actually spat at him, and the spittle landed on Tong’s cheek, tinged with red from the blood he could taste in his mouth. Tong wiped it off with the back of his hand. “I guess the 18K weren’t competent enough to finish you off properly,” he said, almost to himself. “That’s fine. I enjoy dealing with rats.” His eyes gleamed as he reached for a hammer in his toolbox. “I like to make them squeal.”
“Hou sei la lei, you motherfucker,” Jackie snarled, and spat at him again. “You’ll never get me to roll over on Wei. Never! He’s no fucking cop!”
The hammer was poised over his hand. “Would you stake your life on it?”
“He’s a cop in the same way that you’re a man: not at fucking all.”
“Wrong answer,” Tong said, almost cheerfully, and brought the hammer crashing down. Jackie howled.
*
Three smashed fingers and four crushed toes later, Jackie had passed out from the pain twice and been beaten back into consciousness both times. His nose felt like it had been broken, and there was blood all over his face. He hadn’t given up any information about Wei, though, and for that he was proud of himself. Those sons of bitches were not going to get him to call Wei a cop. Not for anything. Wei wasn’t just his best friend, Wei was his brother. Not even a triad-brother, like they’d become with their initiation; this went back further than that. Wei’d stabbed Dogeyes with a pen for him back in Old Prosperity, back when they were kids. When that happened, he’d found a friend for life in Jackie. And Jackie was not about to call his best friend a rat just to stop something so insignificant as pain.
He was just hanging on the edge of consciousness when he heard one of Tong’s goons messing with his stolen mobile phone. “Sent it. Shen will be here soon.”
“What, you’re giving up on me?” Jackie asked, the pain making him bold. “You finally believe he’s no fucking cop?”
“Not exactly. There’s nothing useful coming out of you. We’re giving you back to him, that’s all,” Tong said, and hauled him upright. The pain made him dizzy, but he stumbled to his feet. “Get your fucking clothes on.” Jackie managed as best he could with his shattered hand, swearing and wincing when the sleeve of his hoodie got caught on one of his broken fingers. “Hurry it up, pok gai.”
He limped towards the door and hobbled down the concrete steps he was led to, wincing and swearing all the while. He wasn’t sure where he was, but the building was under construction. Central, maybe? Surely he was still on the island. He emerged in the garage, where some of Tong’s men were already waiting for him. One of them shoved him close to the wall, and Tong pulled out a pair of handcuffs. Then he slapped one end on one of Jackie’s wrists and barked at him to raise his arms, which he did, with some difficulty. Tong cuffed his wrists together over the exposed ceiling pipes. Jackie yelled out; his arms felt like they were going to pop out of their sockets. The pipe was a little taller up than he could reach on his own, and the chain allowance in the handcuffs wasn’t exactly generous.
“Where’s Wei?” he asked, wriggling around like a worm on a line. Maybe, just maybe, if a couple of these assholes got close enough he could swing and kick them in the face with his good foot.
Tong chuckled darkly. “On his way. But you’re not going to see him.” Almost quicker than Jackie could see, he pulled out a wicked machete and stepped close to him. “Because, Jackie...you’re not a hostage. You’re bait.”
The blade plunged into his stomach before he even had time to be surprised. Tong sliced across his belly, laughing. A cascade of emotions washed through him - fear, anger, regret, sadness (I wanted out, I wanted out, I didn’t want to do this anymore) - and they all came spilling out when his entrails did.
Wei had always said he’d be there for Jackie, that he’d never leave him behind. The blood flowed out of him and his vision dimmed, and that was the one thing he held on to as he felt his life leave with each heartbeat.
He’ll come for me. Wei’ll come for me. He’ll get me out of this. He has to. I’m sorry, Wei. I should have stayed.
He’ll come for me. He’ll...
He only realized how phenomenally stupid he was being when a van pulled up alongside him and grabbed him right off the streets of Aberdeen. He’d begun to panic when the hood was pulled over his head - not again, not again, I can’t go back there again, help me, Wei! - and a blow to the back of the head had stopped his manic flailing.
It was the pain that brought him round, a sharp pain in his chest. He could feel himself bleeding from the cut the scalpel had made, and as he realized what it was that had cut him, he realized who had to be holding it.
He’d never wanted to see Liu Shen Tong again, not least when Tong had him zip-tied to a folding chair, stripped to the waist. The legendary Sun On Yee enforcer smiled at him, and it made Jackie wish that he hadn’t.
“You’ve made a big fucking mistake, lan yeung,” Jackie said with bravado he did not feel. “You fucking traitor. Wei’s not going to let you live, he’s gonna cut you apart with your own scalpels, you and Big Smile Lee and all the rest of you fucks!”
“Your friend Wei Shen’s not coming to save you this time,” the enforcer said, the cruel smile as sharp as the scalpel in his hand. Then he looked mock-thoughtful. “Or should I say...Officer Shen?”
“Bullshit,” Jackie spat. “Bullshit! He’s not a cop! You fucking liar! Diu nei lou mou!” It was such a stupid, transparent lie. It was acceptable, expected, even, to kill rats that infiltrated the Sun On Yee. Jackie hadn’t been present for the death of the latest one, Charles Ho, but he’d known the guy. He’d been an associate of Winston’s, but uninitiated, like Jackie had been until recently. His reluctance to kill was what eventually outed him as a rat, a fucking cop in sheep’s clothing, and Tong - Mr. Tong, as he was treated with respect and fear approaching that owed to the Dragonhead himself - had been dispatched to deal with him. Jackie shuddered when he remembered the stories of what had happened to the poor bastard. It didn’t escape him that Ho’s punishment - namely, being buried alive after being brutally tortured - was too similar to what had nearly happened to him. And what looked like was about to happen to him again.
Wei was no cop. He couldn’t be. He’d killed more than Jackie had, and that one murder for the initiation still gave Jackie nightmares. Even if he had shot the guy to save Wei’s life. Wei was Sun On Yee through and through. Hell, Uncle Po had been more likely to be a cop than Wei. “He’s not a fucking cop!”
The motherfucker kept smiling. “Oh, believe me, Jackie. I have it on very good authority that your friend is a fucking rat. And if he’s a rat...what’s to say you’re not a rat, too?”
Jackie actually spat at him, and the spittle landed on Tong’s cheek, tinged with red from the blood he could taste in his mouth. Tong wiped it off with the back of his hand. “I guess the 18K weren’t competent enough to finish you off properly,” he said, almost to himself. “That’s fine. I enjoy dealing with rats.” His eyes gleamed as he reached for a hammer in his toolbox. “I like to make them squeal.”
“Hou sei la lei, you motherfucker,” Jackie snarled, and spat at him again. “You’ll never get me to roll over on Wei. Never! He’s no fucking cop!”
The hammer was poised over his hand. “Would you stake your life on it?”
“He’s a cop in the same way that you’re a man: not at fucking all.”
“Wrong answer,” Tong said, almost cheerfully, and brought the hammer crashing down. Jackie howled.
Three smashed fingers and four crushed toes later, Jackie had passed out from the pain twice and been beaten back into consciousness both times. His nose felt like it had been broken, and there was blood all over his face. He hadn’t given up any information about Wei, though, and for that he was proud of himself. Those sons of bitches were not going to get him to call Wei a cop. Not for anything. Wei wasn’t just his best friend, Wei was his brother. Not even a triad-brother, like they’d become with their initiation; this went back further than that. Wei’d stabbed Dogeyes with a pen for him back in Old Prosperity, back when they were kids. When that happened, he’d found a friend for life in Jackie. And Jackie was not about to call his best friend a rat just to stop something so insignificant as pain.
He was just hanging on the edge of consciousness when he heard one of Tong’s goons messing with his stolen mobile phone. “Sent it. Shen will be here soon.”
“What, you’re giving up on me?” Jackie asked, the pain making him bold. “You finally believe he’s no fucking cop?”
“Not exactly. There’s nothing useful coming out of you. We’re giving you back to him, that’s all,” Tong said, and hauled him upright. The pain made him dizzy, but he stumbled to his feet. “Get your fucking clothes on.” Jackie managed as best he could with his shattered hand, swearing and wincing when the sleeve of his hoodie got caught on one of his broken fingers. “Hurry it up, pok gai.”
He limped towards the door and hobbled down the concrete steps he was led to, wincing and swearing all the while. He wasn’t sure where he was, but the building was under construction. Central, maybe? Surely he was still on the island. He emerged in the garage, where some of Tong’s men were already waiting for him. One of them shoved him close to the wall, and Tong pulled out a pair of handcuffs. Then he slapped one end on one of Jackie’s wrists and barked at him to raise his arms, which he did, with some difficulty. Tong cuffed his wrists together over the exposed ceiling pipes. Jackie yelled out; his arms felt like they were going to pop out of their sockets. The pipe was a little taller up than he could reach on his own, and the chain allowance in the handcuffs wasn’t exactly generous.
“Where’s Wei?” he asked, wriggling around like a worm on a line. Maybe, just maybe, if a couple of these assholes got close enough he could swing and kick them in the face with his good foot.
Tong chuckled darkly. “On his way. But you’re not going to see him.” Almost quicker than Jackie could see, he pulled out a wicked machete and stepped close to him. “Because, Jackie...you’re not a hostage. You’re bait.”
The blade plunged into his stomach before he even had time to be surprised. Tong sliced across his belly, laughing. A cascade of emotions washed through him - fear, anger, regret, sadness (I wanted out, I wanted out, I didn’t want to do this anymore) - and they all came spilling out when his entrails did.
Wei had always said he’d be there for Jackie, that he’d never leave him behind. The blood flowed out of him and his vision dimmed, and that was the one thing he held on to as he felt his life leave with each heartbeat.
He’ll come for me. Wei’ll come for me. He’ll get me out of this. He has to. I’m sorry, Wei. I should have stayed.
He’ll come for me. He’ll...